


It Is Not Work That Kills (But Worry)

by adverbally



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Injury, M/M, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4307733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adverbally/pseuds/adverbally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the new Arthur, Harry doesn’t go out in the field often, but when it does, it’s practically a guaranteed clusterfuck. Honestly, Eggsy isn’t sure that Merlin made the right decision in clearing Harry for field work, because there was clearly some damage done by Valentine’s bullet that has gone unchecked. Why else would Harry do such damn stupid things on his missions?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Is Not Work That Kills (But Worry)

Eggsy loves being a Kingsman, don’t get him wrong. It gives him purpose, helps him provide for his sister and his mum, sparks that little buzz under his skin that’s better than any pub fight. There’s not a day that goes by that he’s not grateful to Merlin for offering him the title of Galahad after the Valentine debacle, and to Harry for letting him keep it when it turned out the bastard wasn’t dead after all. Now he gets to go to work with his best mates every day and kick some major arse while he’s at it. It’s a pretty sweet gig, all in all.

Still, it’s not a cakewalk by any means. For one thing, getting shot fucking _hurts_ , even through a bulletproof suit. Broken ribs are a bitch he’s never quite gotten the hang of, and don’t even get him started on the time with his toenails. But the greatest torture of all is how much he worries about Harry.

As the new Arthur, Harry doesn’t go out in the field often, but when it does, it’s practically a guaranteed clusterfuck. Honestly, Eggsy isn’t sure that Merlin made the right decision in clearing Harry for field work, because there was clearly some damage done by Valentine’s bullet that has gone unchecked. Why else would Harry do such _damn stupid_ things on his missions?

“You’re jokin’, right?” Eggsy says-- practically pleads-- to Harry when the older man is laid up in the infirmary for the third time in as many weeks. “Tell me you didn’t seriously walk into a fuckin’ terrorist headquarters _unarmed_ an' try to take out thirty-two men with your bare hands.” He leans back in the chair he’s pulled up next to Harry’s bed and crosses his arms, exhausted.

At times like these, seeing Harry covered in bruises and bandages, Eggsy wishes their job wasn’t quite what it was. It would be nice to be a normal couple, not worrying about whether they’ll be killed performing top-secret acts of international espionage. Eggsy knows he’s not alone in the feeling-- he’s noticed the dark circles under Harry’s eyes when Eggsy returns from a long mission, felt the slight trembling of Harry’s hand holding his while he sits by Eggsy’s bedside.

This time, Harry is uncharacteristically silent. Usually, he’ll put up some token protest that Eggsy can see right through in an attempt to make both of them feel better about what a _wanker_ he is. Now, though, he has no excuses. It might be the mild concussion. 

"Do I need to remind you how fucked up you got?" Eggsy rattles through the list of Harry's injuries, ticking them off on his fingers. "Concussion, dislocated shoulder, two bruised ribs, one _broken_ rib, a sprained knee, you even broke two fuckin' toes--"

Harry interjects, "Only one toe was actually broken."

“Damn it, Harry!” Eggsy exclaims, throwing up his arms in disbelief. “When’re you gonna stop actin’ like you’re invincible? Just because you came back from the dead once don’t mean it’ll happen again.”

“Technically,” Harry corrects, his voice cracking from disuse, “I wasn’t really dead that time.”

Eggsy buries his face in his hands and lets out a long breath instead of screaming like he so desperately wants to. “Jesus Christ, you’re unbelievable.” 

Harry reaches out with the hand that doesn’t currently have an IV sticking out of it and gently takes hold of one of Eggsy’s wrists. He soothes his thumb in circles over the tense joints of his hand in a practiced motion. “You know how dangerous this job can be,” he reminds Eggsy, keeping his voice low.

Harry’s attempt to be calming is having the opposite effect, taking on a condescending tone that sets Eggsy on edge. “I know! Of course I fuckin’ know. It seems like it’s you who’s got a problem with understandin’ that,” he snaps.

“I’ve been doing this far longer than you have, and I've lost friends who were doing their duty to this organization. I’d say I understand fairly well,” Harry says coolly. His face is a blank mask, which is a dead giveaway that Eggsy’s pissed him off something fierce.

“Don’t act like I can’t possibly get it just 'cause I’m new here.” Eggsy narrows his eyes and pulls his hand out of Harry’s grip. “My dad was one of those friends, yeah? I saw what my mum went through when she lost him, an’ I don’t ever want that to happen to me.” His fingernails dig into his palm where he’s clenching his fist, but Eggsy ignores the sting. “I don’t _ever_ want to lose you like that.”

Harry winces so slightly that it’s almost imperceptible. “I apologize. I didn’t mean that your lack of experience--”

“Just save it, will you?” Eggsy sighs. He hates fighting with Harry, and combined with his worry, it’s making him feel ill. It’s a feeling he’s unfortunately getting used to. He rubs at his eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, too. I’ve been a right prick about this. I just don’t like you gettin' hurt.” He holds his hand out to Harry as a peace offering, and Harry takes it with a gentle squeeze.

“It doesn’t exactly thrill me either. And if you think I don’t worry just as bloody much when you’re away, you’re a worse spy than I thought,” Harry says drily, making Eggsy chuckle despite himself. 

Eggsy pulls his and Harry's joined hands to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of Harry's hand. "Will you promise me to try to be more careful?"

“Eggsy," Harry begins solemnly. "I promise that I will never again try to singlehandedly take on thirty-two terrorists without proper weaponry." 

Eggsy raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "Really. That's it?" Harry can be too fucking smart for his own good. 

When Eggsy doesn't immediately accept this, Harry sighs. "You know promises don't mean much in our line of work. I can't guarantee anything, but I will do my best to always come home to you." 

Between Harry's somber tone and the intensity of his gaze, Eggsy believes him wholeheartedly. "I'm gonna do my best too. Always," he vows. 

Harry smiles back at him fondly. "I know you will. Now come here, I've been away from you long enough." Gingerly, Harry scoots to the edge of his bed to make room for Eggsy. 

Eggsy, for once, doesn't have the heart to argue. He crawls into the tiny hospital bed and allows Harry to settle his blankets over the two of them. Eggsy curls himself around Harry carefully, trying to avoid the worst of his injuries. Once he's resting his head against the shoulder Harry hadn't dislocated, Eggsy yawns so hugely that his jaw pops. 

"I can't stay long," Eggsy tells Harry apologetically. "Merlin's sendin' me out in a few days and my briefin's in an hour."

Harry presses a kiss to Eggsy's temple, using his good arm to smooth back his hair. "Could you keep an old man company in the meantime?"

"Hmm," Eggsy hums thoughtfully. "I s'pose," he says, though it's lazy with drowsiness. "Not much company though." He's already beginning to doze off, helped against Harry's comforting warmth and the relief of knowing Harry is safe. 

"That's all right," Harry murmurs. "I'll wake you."

Eggsy trusts him completely, just as he always has, and he closes his eyes and lets sleep carry him away with the comforting thrum of Harry's pulse beneath his ear.


End file.
